The Daughters Tale
by khanes2000
Summary: Ever wonder what it is like for the Daughters in Gilead? Or what happens to a teenage girl who has to become a daughter to one of the highest Commanders in the country? Kyra Hanes was a high school student until the Republic of Gilead takes over her country. Now she is stuck being a Daughter for parents who aren't her own, and forced to marry someone she doesn't love. Past&Present.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! It has been so long since I wrote on here. A lot has been going on but i am excited to get back into writing again. I am obsessed with both the book and the TV show of The Handmaids Tale and I have wondered what would happen to me if the whole Gilead thing happened, if I didn't escape. So here it is, a story about what I hope will happen to me in this world.**

Chapter 1

The gardens. The house. The garage. Trees. A lonely woman with a busy man. A teenage daughter. These are the things that I have. Not much, but they all mean something. A place for mother to control. The shelter of our family. Where the car sits, waiting to be cleaned by our Guardian. Mother and Father. And me. I know that it may seem like nothing, but its all I've got. There used to be phones and games for past teens to play, but they are forbidden now.

The house is bigger than others. Full of red brick and windows that stretch high. The house looks like an English castle, full of history that will not be told. A tower stands tall, overlooking the street. Countless gardens in the back, mothers domain. It looks old. I believe this place used to be a home of the wealthy. Makes since, we are the hierarchy. There is writing over the entrance to our home. " _Non nobis solum_ " it says, welcoming those who enter with an unseeing touch.

The day is hot and sunny. I can see a lot of red and pale green walking down the street, two-by-two. I can see them through my window, walking with their heads low, a way for me to not see their face. They fascinate me, the reds. I see them all the time with their white wings covering me from seeing their face, and mine for them. Thick red dresses and cloak even in the blistering summer sun. How do they survive?

My window is the gateway into life outside. I am allowed to go outside, and I do, but sometimes it is better to stay behind glass and just watch life pass by. I guess I am waiting, waiting for life to begin or something interesting to happen.

A tap on the door jerks me out of my daydreams. Vera stands in the open door way, her arms folded across her chest. He pail green apron is sprinkled with a light powder of some sorts, most likely flower. She looks at me with her narrow brown eyes. Confusion? Annoyance? It's hard to tell. "Your mother wants to see you." She tells me in a low voice. I tilt my head back a little and take a deep breath.

I don't like my mother, well she isn't actually my mother, just pretends to be. I was assigned to this family. To be a daughter that they won't be able to have. Basically adoption. Now I know how those kids feel.

I walk down the hallway with Vera ahead of me. I have the instinct to head towards her room because that is usually where she is, but instead I am leaded towards the stairs and out the back door. Outside is our garden, well it's more than one garden. This is the only place where my mother has control. I don't know what Mrs. Beal was before all of this happened. Probably something she was in charge of, CEO? There is a sort of hunger inside her, for some form of power. I mean I would too if I were her.

The gardens have been transformed into what looks like an old garden party. White tents shoot into the sky, tables and chairs stretching long distances. Jars full of flowers hang from the ceiling and lights are being strung up with the order from the Wife. It looks like it could be from a fairy tale or from the olden days. I remember reading about how royalty used to throw these kinds of parties. How is this kind of stuff allowed?

My mother, dressed in the usual attire of a wife. Long blue dress, ¾ sleeves, some cool design with the fabric, blue heals, hair pulled tight into a bun. It's all so bland, yet elegant.

I hopped off the black van, with the assistance of a Guardian, and take a look at the home. Its large. A lot of brick and window, very different from the ones on the street. An Aunt, her long khaki dress, leads me away from the van and towards the front door. She babbles on about how lucky I am to be staying with these people and how I am just going to love it, etc etc. I look at the paved drive way, my long white dress barely hit the ground. Fall is on it's way, you can feel the coolness in the air. I wrap my light pink cloak around me tighter for warmth. We soon reached the front door, tall and wooden. A stone archway gave a little bit of an overhang in case of rain.

Chiseled into the smooth stone above was a crest, a family crest. I knew that it wasn't theirs, the new owners, it had to be from the time before. Above the crest in stone ribbon, a fading inscription. Words. It's been so long since I have read something. " _Non nobis solum,"_ the ribbon reads. ' _French? No its not French, if it were French I'd have understood what it mean't. Spanish? No it can't be Spanish._ ' I run through all of the popular languages in my head till I reach Latin. ' _Latin, why didn't you think of Latin! I don't know Latin. Fuck.'_

The Aunt knocks and I am thrown back into reality. The Aunt is looking at me and smiles. _It is truly an amazing house, you are so lucky to be assigned here and not with the Econo people._ She says in a happy tone. _Who are these people?_ I asked. She hadn't told me who I was staying with, even at the School. Her smile fades a little and her eyes grown narrow. ' _These_ _"People"_ _,'_ She says in disgust, ' _are your new family members. From now on you will be Kyra Beal, not Kyra…'_ The creaking of the old wooden door interrupted her before she could say anything else.

In the entryway was a Martha. I have grown accustomed to seeing them. It wasn't odd to see them walking down the street while we went on our morning walk. She looked old, like the Aunt who was standing next to me. Her hair sparkling with specks of grey. Her almond shaped eyes dropping only a little. Her posture was not straight, she was slouching, annoyance maybe. She must not like us here, we distract her from her work.

 _Under his Eye,_ I say to her, the proper greeting. Her reply was the usual May the Lord open. This is how things were now. No _Hello_ or _Hi_ or _Hey sexy how's it hanging?_. None of that. The Martha moves out of the way, welcoming us in. I go inside, the Aunt not far behind me. The entrance was pretty, giant white pillars greeted you when you walked in. In front of us was the living room full of couches and chairs and even a piano, nice to see that there was still a respect for music.

 _Wait here,_ was all that was said and then the Martha was off. Paintings of flowers hung on the walls of the entry. It was nice to see paintings again, I wonder if they were painted by the Wife. To my right was the stairwell, leading up behind the wall. There must be a room devoted to the stairs.

The Aunt kept looking at her watch, like she has other places to be. A Guardian showed up carrying my only suitcase, pink. Soon enough we herd thumps coming from the staircase. A blue and black couple came down the steps and stood before us. They looked old, not as old as that Martha, but still old. The Wife, in her blue dress, looked at me with joy. Wrinkles showing up a little bit as she smiled. Her hair was not completely white, she still had some dirty blond on her head. Eyes sparkled like chocolate. She seemed nice. The Commander on the other hand stood straight. His hair turning slightly grey. He looked as if he was trying to be happy to see me, but I knew I was taking time away from his work. I am his burden. The suit he wore was like all of the other Commanders, black and clean. Nothing special. No cool tie, or cool socks to show off a little bit of personality. None of that is needed now.

 _Blessed day._ The Wife spoke, her voice sweet and cheerful. She was clearly glad to have me. Blessed day. _Thank you for bringing me in. May the Lord truly make me worthy as your daughter._ I reply keeping my head low as if I was bowing. That made her smile. The Commander smiled a little, gave a small nod, then left saying nothing. The air grew stiff as we all stood around, not knowing what to say. The Aunt clapped her hands together as a way to get rid of the awkwardness. _Well I can see that you will be treated well here. I must be off, more lady's to take care of._ The Aunt says. And with that she was off.

"Kyra!" The Wife bubbled as she walked over to where me and Vera stood. Before I knew it I was wrapped up in an embrace, I felt squished. It's not that I don't like hugs, in fact I love them, I haven't been hugged in a long time. I never realized how much I missed something so small like a hug. "I am throwing a party," She said with a smile on her face, she seems to be proud of whatever this is for. "Your father and I are celebrating the Angels and Eyes that are becoming Commanders in the next Military Ceremony. We are inviting them here tonight. You may even meet your future husband." Her eyes gleamed with hope and joy.

Husband. Something about that word made me shiver. I am only 18, which for this place is too old to get married. The youngest is 14 I believe. It's shocking that they haven't assigned me a suitor yet. Maybe Mother and the Commander told the council to wait, so they can have more time with their daughter. I have always dreamed of getting married. But in a place like this, I would rather not.

"Praise be," I reply, not daring to show any form of sadness or anger towards that situation. The Wife clapped her hands together and a Guardian showed up immediately as if he knew this was coming. "This is for you." She says to me as the Guardian hands me a white gift bag with light pink tissue paper. I didn't even know that they still had this stuff, tissue paper. I'll make sure to keep this for later.

Mother looks at me with an impatient smile, I guess she wants me to open up the gift. As I take off the paper I see something white underneath. I pull out a wad of fabric, unfolding it to see a sun dress, well what is now considered a sundress, which isn't even a sundress at all. Yes, it does flare out at the bottom and the fabric is lightweight. but there is no design of flowers or short sleeves, only ¾, the shortest it can be in the summer. I try to look happy at it to please Mother. It is a nice gift, but it isn't one I can accept nor want.

She gleams back at me and then goes straight into bossing a Guardian around who was supposedly doing something wrong. "When is the party?" I ask, not knowing if she will answer or not. "Its tonight dear, go get ready." She reply's, still focused on the preparations happening around her.

Tonight?

"Oh, and take Vera with you darling, she can help you get ready." Her head turned to a Martha trying to put some flowers in a vase. "No no! You are doing that all wrong." She yelled at her while she marched over in her direction, my signal to leave.

I go back to my room where Vera is waiting for me. "What did the Mistress want?" She asked flatly. "She gave me a dress, for the party tonight, I'm supposed to wear it." I explained as I slumped onto the vanity chair. "You need to help me get ready. Mothers orders." I tease.

I know that she doesn't care for spending time with me, and I don't care for spending time with her. But she is the only person i trust here, my only friend. She laughs, I like her laugh. "Hey, it gets me away from cooking. Praise be" Then I laugh too, anything to get Vera away from working around my Mother is a praise be indeed.

"So, how would you like your hair?" She challenged. I smiled at her through the mirror. "Something bold."

 **So... What ya think? I know that there is a lot of description and I have been trying to reword things and make it not so obvious. If you have any suggestions about how change some of these sentences, I am all for the help. I'll hopefully post chapter 2 soon. Stay beautiful you people. Love ya. -Kyra**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My reflection stares back at me. I am no longer Kyra Hanes, but I guess that is what theatre is. I look at the girl in the mirror, Grimsby. That is who I am for tonight, a character in The Little Mermaid.

There is a knock on the door and we all turn, to see who is coming in. Julia peers from around the door, her bright curly yellow hair pulled back into a nice bun. She looks cute, as always. Though she is showing a little bit too much boob for a kids performance, good thing that she is only the scenic designer. " _Fifteen minutes till circle,"_ She calls out to us and we all reply with our usual " _Thank you fifteen"._

I look at myself one last time in the mirror. I look good. My hair is in a low ponytail. There isn't much need for makeup for Grimsby because he is a guy. Though t I have on some foundation and mascara on anyway. _This is it Kyra, you can do this. It's not like you have been acting since you were five. Just go out there and give it your all._

I look in the mirror. Though there is no makeup to cover some of the pimples forming on my face, at least the hair does a good job of distracting everyone from looking at them.

Vera stands back and looks down at her masterpiece. I have to hand it to her, she is pretty darn good at doing someone's hair. We decided on bringing back an old favorite of mine. One that I've never gotten to do because my hair was alway too short. But now, in a place where women apparently can't cut their hair, I decided to try it out. Two braids come around my ears and up towards the braided bun in the back. I look like Jenna Coleman when she played Queen Victoria, is that still continuing? It was a great show.

I take one final look at myself before I get changed into the new dress. The white seemed almost too pure, but then again all daughters must be. I looked like a ghost, the fabric seemed to wash out my skin. But the dress seemed to go pretty well with my hair, so I felt pretty proud of my choice. And then I did something I have not done in a long time, something that Vera hasn't done either.

I gave her a hug. Yes I have received hugs from my Mother, but I never gave any in return. This one was special, we both knew it. For the first time in forever, I finally found a friend. The sun was still shining brightly outside and the clock struck two. Cars soon began to arrive with countless of Wives and current Commanders stepping out of the safety of their cars. God I want to hurt them all.

No, I shouldn't think like that. Thinking like that can ruin me, make me go insane, do something that I will regret. I can't slip off into the deep end. Not now and not ever. You can do this. I turn to where Vera was standing, but she was gone.

I know the drill. Get ready and wait to be called upon. This is not the first party I've encountered since I've gotten here. So I wait, wait for the bell or someone to knock on my door. I look out my window, the one facing the gardens. The Commanders mingle with each other while the wives sit down under the tent talking. Some have brought their Handmaid's, others their daughters, I guess to show them off. There is a pregnant Handmaid, her belly big and swollen. All of the Wives crowd around her, congratulating her owner as if she was the one who was pregnant. That whole idea is bullshit. I look at something else.

I spotted Emily, another one of our Martha's, we have four. She stands still near the Wives tent, holding a tray of tiny sandwiches. This whole scene reminds me of a fancy tea party, I hate it. She sees me, looking at her through my window. Though she doesn't turn her head, she keeps her stone face and keeps looking forward but her eyes flicker in my direction. She knows that I am looking at her.

Carol, our other Martha, comes running up to her and grabs her attention away from me. Carol, what a sweetie. She is so bubbly all of the time, so hopeful to. I almost feel sorry for her. She I a believer, that is almost for certain. A rule follower, that is what she is. Or maybe she doesn't believe in this all, maybe she just wants to stay out of trouble, like me.

I move away from the window, I know that I'll be out there soon. The Angels and Eyes haven't shown up yet, they are to come at three. I look back at the clock, almost no time has past. So I lay down on my bed and think.

 _What do you think of this one?_ Mom asks as she holds up a fancy maroon dress she found on the rack. _Ehh… I dont know._ I reply hesentaly, not entirely sure if I like how it looks on the hanger. Mom just smiles that smile and I know what she is going to say next. _Oh, Amuse me._

We walk into the dressing room together and I get changed into the countless homecoming dresses we have picked out, none of which seemed to work. Then we land on the one mom picked out. A short maroon dress with a turtleneck collar and a sparkly design. Once it is on my body I know that it is the one. Mom smiles at me and I smile back. Of course mom picks out the perfect. Mothers know best.

A bell wakes me up, did I fall asleep? The bell means that they are ready for me. I take one last look in the mirror before I head to the stairs. I stand at the top of the stairs for at least a minute, make them anxious to see me. Then I go down the stone steps with a red carpet runner. It looks elegant, like it was transported from a castle. I feel odd walking down them, out of place. I stay in the middle of the stairs, walking down the tread. My hands are folded over each other in front of my stomach. I dont hold on to any of the railings which is weird, I have to look like the perfect daughter everyone wants me to be. I can not be who I am.

There is a crowd of people all surrounding the stairs, all whom are which looking at me. They came to see me, their a show, their prize, their envy. They eat this up. I smile back down at them, I play the part of the perfect Gileadian girl that I am supposed to be no matter how much it kills me.

Mother shows me around, taking me around to see many of the Commanders and their Wives. I used to think that she was being friendly, trying to get me to make friends. Now I know that she is just showing me off to everybody. I am a way of showing status, a tool to make the others jealous. Woman these days are just items to be played with.

"Will she be in the next Prayvaganza?"

"Oh she will be the perfect Wife."

"I hope she is not destined to be an Econowife, she should be the Wife of a Commander." They all nod in agreement. Their conversations are all the same, when will I be married? Who will she be assigned too. Of course none of us know the answers to these questions, I am told that I'll find out when I will partake in a Prayvaganza the day before.

Mother continues blabbing on and on about her garden to Miss James, the Wife to the Chief of Angles. In other words she married a police officer. Miss James seems young, in her early twenties. She wears a teal blue that flares out at the bottom, I guess it's supposed to be look fancy, but it doesn't do its job well for her. The dress looks almost too big for her, like its swallowing her up. Nevertheless she looks does look beautiful.

"How are your orchids doing Fiona?" For once Mother makes the subject about others for a change. "They are doing alright, I just can't seem to figure out how to make them stand so tall like yours Lilith." Mother laughs, she knows that she has the best garden in our district, hince why this party is here. "It takes time Fiona, lots of practice." And with that Mother excuses herself from the conversation and I follow.  
Once we are away from her sight mother whispers over to me, "There is no way I am telling that girl my secret to the perfect orchid. She just wants to make her garden better than ours so she can have all of the attention. Ha!" Mother tells me with a grunt. Then mother leads me to where I have been dreading most of all, The Commander and future Commander's tent.  
Men of all shapes and sizes stand around talking to one another. I don't know what they are talking about, probably something to do with work or foreign troubles. According to our Commander, Canada seems to not want to help us since the last visit to Canada with Commander Waterford and Mrs. Waterford. Who ever got those letters out was a genius. I don't know what they say, though all I know its that they are letters from different women who got stuck here. Hand written, surprised that they didn't get caught.

"Still no word from Canada on the idea of their citizens visiting our country or not. We need to show those god damn Canadians that our country is not what those fucking letters say it's like we are." A Commander explodes behind me. I think to myself that those letters were right, whatever was written on them must have been enough to set off a Canadian ban of all things from Gilead.

We continue to shuffle past all of the men. I don't know who we are going to or who she is looking for, probably her husband. Then she finds what she is looking for, a small circle of men, each looking nervous but excited at the same time. They are enjoying this, this distraction from , that's how many there are, twelve guys. They look young, well some do at least. They all look to between that ages of twenty to forty. I start to begin to realize who these men are. The new inductees, the future Commanders, my suitors.

I start to get nervous, I can't believe that this is happening. Mother continues to drag me towards them, Commander Beal, my "father", is with them talking about the ceremony that is held tomorrow. He sees us and then smiles. "Boys, let me introduce you to my wife, Lilith," Mother gives a small blessed day, the focus isn't supposed to be on her. " And my daughter, Kyra.". I feel as if I should curtsy, that is what my instinct is, but that is no longer a thing.

"Blessed day," I say in a quiet voice, keeping my head low. They all look at me, their eyes glimmer with lust. There is competition in the air, these boys want me, I am their prize for all of their hard work. One of the men steps forward. Tall, muscular, soft eyes, in his 30's. He looks down at me and smiles. "Nice to meet you Kyra," He said my name wrong. Of course, even now my name can still be said wrong.

"Its Key-ra," I pronounce slowly for him, "Think of a key." He looks embarrassed and falls back into the group, the other men chuckle at his mistake. One by one they introduce themselves, saying how its an honor meeting me and bla bla bla bla. I don't pay attention, it's best if I don't know anything about them. Though some of the men are sweet, and it's hard to not like them. They are just doing their job. No matter how sweet they seem, I can't trust nor fall for them.

They eventually leave to line up for the Honoring Ceremony. I released a breath that I didn't even know I was holding, and walked over to the terrace with the other guests. Mother makes sure that I am right up front with her. I want to sit down. There are no chairs for this part, just us standing in the heat, out of the shade.

The national anthem begins as the Angels and Eyes walk out of our house in a perfect line. They don't smile, eyes faced forward. The audience begins to clap as they walk to their designated spot on the terrace. Commander Mcpherson comes out from behind the men and takes at the podium placed in the center of the terrace, the men all stand behind. The applause dies down when the Commander starts his speech.

I didn't pay attention at all to what he said, I just looked at the men up on the stage, my eyes glazing over each and everyone of their stone seemed like such children when I met them, laughing at others mistakes, pushing forward to introduce themselves. But now they look like men, standing tall with their faces stiff and forward.

My eyes drifted across the guy who said my name wrong, he was looking at me. Has he been looking at me this whole time? When I laid my eyes on him for a split second, he blushed and looked away. God I pray that I don't have to have him be my husband.

Then everyone started to clap again, which meant that the honoring was over. The men standing in their perfect line, a line that my marching band could never do, walked off the terrace back into the house. I can hear the cadence growing in my mind and I had to shoo it away. I can't get lost in my thoughts, not here, not now. When the inductees were gone, everyone went back to what they were doing. That was my chance to go back inside, I am tired of meeting all of these people.

I fasted walked back to the back entrance, praying that no one would see me. When suddenly I ran into something hard that made me fall to the concrete floor. Did I hit a wall? I look up to see a black suited guy looking down at me, his face looked shocked but also trying to hold back a laugh. He looked familiar but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"Are you ok, Kyra?" He gasped, giving me his hand to help pull me up. Reached for his hand, but when our fingers touched memories came flying back. John, John McDonald, 2nd period english class. Why didn't I recognize him?

"John?" I asked, still confused on why he is here and how. He pulls me up from the ground. "I'm surprised you remember me, I know we didn't talk a lot in high school." he laughs, giving that cute smile of his. I can't believe that he is here, now, in my home, in this district! It's so nice to have someone you know from the time before.

"What are you doing here? Why are you here?" I'm still confused, something isn't adding up. John's smile fades away. "Well," He hesitates, "I'm going to be a Commander." Shit. You gotta be kidding me, A guy from my old school, before all of this shit happened, is a believer and is going to become a Commander. Fuck.

I stare at him in surprise, mind racing. I have to get out of here. "Yeah my old boss was Commander Jones and he told me about his plans on creating this place. He gave me the job as being an Angel. Everyone liked me and when he died, well they said I can take his place as Commander." He explains to me. I feel faint, I feel like I will throw up. This can't be happening. Apparently I looked sick and he asked if I was alright. I shook my head no and ran inside leaving him standing on the terrace.

I bolted up to my room and slammed my door shut. Every muscle in my body was trembling and I went to my bathroom to make sure I don't vomit on the wooden floors. Vera would kill me if she had to clean up something that disgusting. My head spinning that it hurt my head to think. How can he be an Angel, why is he here, a believer of the cause. That bastard. Oh I could just kill him, I want to kill him.

When I felt calm enough and a little less light headed, I splashed some cold water on my face and exited the bathroom. Mother stood, standing in the center of my room, her arms on her hips. "What are you doing?" She asked. I made up some lie, telling her that I wasn't feeling too well. That got her nervous. Immediately she put the back of her palm on my forehead to check if I was hot. Apparently I was because she told me to get straight into bed. She left calling Vera's name, probably sending her to get some medicine.

Alone. With just me and my thoughts. I want sleep, but sleep won't come to me. Why does he have to be a believer? Why?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3! I am starting to write more and do nothing else so I feel like I am kinda on a schedule. This chapter has a lot so I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 3

I woke up to the chime of the church bells. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 they sing. 8 o'clock, perfect. I rolled out of bed, not exactly to thrilled to get out of something so comfy. I went to my vanity and realized that I still had on the outfit on from the day before. My hair was a mess, all frizzy and matted. I looked gross.

I untangle my hair from the crazy mess and brushed the heck out of it. Once it is decent looking I put it into two long braids, the typical hairstyle among the Daughters. Women, as in the Wives and the Daughters, are allowed to have their hair down, as long as it is in a braid. Just letting your hair loose and straight in public is a scandal and is frowned upon, which sucks because that is what my hair style was in the time before. The wives get very nic picky at the daughters if we keep our hair down besides when we are going to bed.

After I complete my hair I walk into my bathroom to wash my face. I get out of the sun dress from the day before and I send it down the laundry shoot. In my closet there is a wall full of white dresses, pink cloaks, knitted hats, and my shoes: white heels and white flats. I pick a random dress from line and I put it on. It fits smoothly over me, light and airy. It brings out my breasts a little but but not too much to make it scandalous. I don't even know why I have this dress. One of the government issued dresses that was already here when I arrived.

I can smell the food before I get to the dining hall. Pancakes and butter. Carol is a great cook, the others should take after her sometime. I am excited to get those into my mouth. Surprisingly there is a small bottle of maple syrup. I didn't know we had a token for it, let alone that it was even in stock. For many months we have had no maple syrup due to Canada no longer doing any delegations or trade with Gilead. It's a small sacrifice that I have to make. I am proud of Canada, at least they are showing some resistance to this place. I only pour a little.

The clicking of heels echos down the hall as Mother walks towards the dining room. The Commander already left for the Military Ceremony so it is just me and her and the Martha's. Women cant go into these ceremonies, only the men. They have that and we have Prayvaganzas, better known as marriages of teenage girls.

"Good morning," Mother sang as she steps into the dining room. I can hear a Martha in the kitchen scramble to get mothers morning tea ready. "Are you all packed and ready for school?" I nod, putting more bites of pancake in my mouth as a way to avoid conversation. Mother only nods, Emily running in to hand her Mother's tea than scurries off to clean the dishes or something.

I didn't finish my plate, I know that it's bad to waste food, especially now when supplies are low. But I wasn't hungry. I just wanted to get out of the room, away from Mother. "The Angels and Eyes are becoming Commanders today. Praise be," She says before she takes a sip of her tea.

"Praise be," I reply softly. Then she has that look on her face, that motherly look of 'I saw you with a boy last night'. She didn't look mad, just curious.

"I saw that you were talking with one of the new Commanders yesterday." She speaks as if she is excited to hear me talk with a boy. "Jack, wasn't that his name?" Another sip. God I could just kill her.

"I just bumped into him that's all," I say, trying not to draw more on the subject. He needs to be out of my mind, but still I can not stop thinking about are little reunion. Someone I knew, someone I could've trusted is an Angel, no, a Commander. That is weird to think.

"Ok," She replies doubtfully, still not convinced. Another sip. "He should be issued a wife soon, and you should be issued a husband as well." Shit. I can't think about marriage, not now when I have to handle the whole Jack situation. But hey, if I get assigned to him, at least I will marry someone my own age and not twenty or so years older than me.

I take one last sip of the water on the table than I stand to leave, I must get going for school I tell her. She agrees to my excuse to leave and I start to walk out of the dining room. But just as I was about make it out the door, Mother grabs my wrist. There are tears in her eyes, happy or sad, I can't tell. But nevertheless there are tears.

"You are going to make an excellent Wife," She says, holding on to my wrist for only a few seconds before she lets go and I am free to leave. Once I am out of sight I dash up the stairs to grab my bag for school. There isn't really anything in it. No books or pencils. I can't read or write, which has probably been the hardest thing for me to grow accustomed to. Instead of books there are cross stitch patterns, and instead of pencils there are sewing needles and knitting needles.

Our guardian is waiting outside for me, wearing his usual black button up and jeans. He opens the door for me, not acknowledging how late I am. We both know it, so there is no need for us to discuss it. I see Mother at the door, she is waving at me as the car pulls out of the driveway and onto the street.

There are hardly any cars on our street, which makes it easy for us to get to school quickly. I look out the window. There were Martha's and Handmaids walking down the street, two-by-two. Heading to the shops to grab the food for the evening. As we got closer to the school, the more cars there are. Traffic is still a thing in Gilead, though it is not as long as it used to be, but it is still just as annoying.

No words are spoken between me and the driver, there hardly ever is. I don't even know his name. There is no need. I'll be out of here before we know it. I'm just another passenger he has to chauffeur around. He probably hates me, or thinks I am the perfect Gileadian daughter everyone thinks I am. He sees me as a brat. I don't blame him, I would too if I were in his shoes.

We pull up to the School, countless of Daughters and their chauffeurs are there, waiting to go in or finding their designated Aunt. There are a few Wives though which is typical for the toddler years. They are hugging and kissing their daughter, and the daughters are trying to get away from their mother due to the excitement of what lies ahead in school. Do they know? Do they know that who they think there mother is isn't actually their mother? You would think they do since all they do as a baby is cry. They can sense that this woman is not their mother. Does that go away as they grow up?

The Guardian helps me get out of the car though I don't need any help, he knows that. Once I am out of the car and standing in front of the School, the Guardian nods, gets in his car, and drives away. He doesn't need to wait here with me, he knows that I can't go anywhere.

I look amongst the crowd, searching for at least someone I know. But that ends quickly when the Aunts come out of the entrance of the school and go to their spots scattered around the school yard. I quickly find my Aunt, always under the great willow tree. She smiles when she sees me coming. It's the same Aunt who dropped me off at the Beal's home, Aunt Miriam. Rebellion, I read about that from the time before, that is what her name means. She is not rebellious. Once everyone from my class is here, all twelve, we head to our classroom.

The school used to be an elementary school before it became this. There is a dent in the stone overhang where the name of the school used to be. Some Economen came awhile back to chessled the words from the time before. Forest Hill Elementary school I believe it was called. Now the school is called the Jeremiah, Keziah, and Karen School for Girls, named after the three beautiful daughters of Job after God made him prosperous for us Daughters.

Our classroom is small, a few desks lined up in rows facing an old chalkboard that hangs on a wall. Nothing gets written on there, it is kinda useless. We can only see pictures, not read. To the side of the board is the Aunts desk. She has it decorated with flowers and some apples. Hand drawn pictures of flowers or animals are taped onto the side of her desk. Each one of these small gifts are from us, her ladys. We give them to her to act like we care about her. It's nice knowing how to act, because it's easy to fool people into thinking that you are what they want you to be. That's what I do here, I act. I give the best performance of my life every single day to survive.

We take our seats. Mine is always the first seat in the first row of our two. Our Aunt stands in front of us smiling. "Blessed day," she greets us. We all reply back with the usual "Blessed day, Aunt Miriam" simultaneously. Aunt Miriam goes on and on about what others have done this week, switching the topic from one daughter to another. I am the final topic, the one to end this conversation with a bang. "Kyra now has had a party last night where her family invited all of the future Commanders to celebrate." She announces like it was something extravagant. Everyone's heads turn to me, eyes big and wide with shock and envy. They wait for me to say something further about what went on last night. Aunt Miriam gives me a subtle nod, an ok to speak.

"Yes, everyone was so lovely. We all had a great time honoring the new Commanders." I announce while the class looks at me in jealousy. I just met the future Commanders, our potential suitors. Something like that is the closest we can get to dating. Daughters don't meet their husband before hand. What determines our fate is where we stand in line. I sink into my chair, I used to love attention but in this circumstance I wish I was invisible.

The rest of the day consisted of cooking, hosting practice, our afternoon walk, and free time. I enjoy the free time, though it may not be what you think. Our free time is when we choose what we would do when we are married, what we will occupy ourselves with when the time comes. I always choose cross stitching. We take this time outside so those who want to practice gardening can do that. I cross stitch under a big tree and look in my cross stitching pattern book for inspiration.

These books used to have words next to the patterns, describing what symbols in the picture represents a color. Now there are just color splotches next to the symbols. Even reading a short word like a color is forbidden. I take my fabric and put it on the hoop to make it easier to hold. I look at a picture and I begin.

The Tv is playing a movie as I frantically work on the cross stitch before me. Indiana Jones escaping from the Nazi's grasps with his father at his side. I like this movie, seen it at least a million times. It helps me to cross stitch and watch a movie I've seen many times. I just listen to what's going on and stitch.

This particular cross stitch has taken me forever to complete. I started it during the AIR tests of freshman year, the state tests we take towards the end of the year instead of a final. And now its the next year and I am still not done. The blue background is not even started and I still have to finish the red triangle. VenturianTale, my favorite YouTubers, I am stitching their emblem. I have no pattern before me, just my imagination. It has taken me so long to finish the yellow V and I move on to the red triangle behind it, listening to the voices from the Tv.

In the time that it took me to watch two Indiana Jones movies, I completed the project. I seem to cross stitch faster when I have music or a movie playing around me. The end product looks great and I am so happy that after six or more months I completed this project. I see the pattern book next to me and I search for my next project.

An eagle, a bald eagle to be exact, that is what I've chosen. Aunt Miriam is walking around looking at others garden or knitting work. When she comes over to me to look at what I've been working on for the past hour and a half. To her delight I've created something that she enjoys. A bird. These things go unseen by most people, symbolism. I rely on symbolism, something that used to be heavily stressed upon in school. The bald eagle symbolizes freedom, something I wish I can have. Birds and their symbolism have become more important to me then they ever were before.

Everyone in my class represents a different type of bird:

Helen- Hummingbird. She is our little messenger. Tells us what is going on here.

Maggie- Nightingale. Always getting into trouble and always crying for purgatory

Fiona- Stork. All she wants is a child, to be fertile.

Bridget- Peacock. Bridget is our Gryffindor, arrogant and prideful.

Claire- Swallow. Loving and accepting everyone.

Sidney- Pigeon. Don't believe a word she says. All of it is a lie. Gossip.

Evangeline- Dove. A girl looking for some peace in our world.

Anika- Parakeet. Lets just say that her analytical thinking isn't on point.

Ivy- Crane. She represents the honor and integrity of this place. Very true to her word.

Audrey- Magpie. A non stop chatter box.

Ellen- Owl. Very wise and very smart. Always has a way to solve something.

Mabel- Bluebird. Always so happy and delighted in any given moment.

Aunt Miriam- A raven. She is our teacher, a reminder of God's love for us.

What am I? I don't know to be honest. I like to believe that I am a Tanager, wanting war and bloodshed. With all of the shit that is happening in this place, who wouldn't want a revolution. But I know that I can never fight, I am not a fighter. I guess I am a Blue Jay, a seer for what things are and not what we wish they could be. I see this place and I think of all of the awful things that happen behind closed doors, hidden from other countries, hidden from us.

Two hours of us being outside, in the sun. I can feel my skin starting burn and my shade has left me. We are eventually allowed to go back inside, the school day is over.

My Guardian waits for me outside, by the car. He leans against the front passenger door, he looks like a model for an old magasine or he should be holding a cigarette blowing puffs of smoke. Nevertheless, he looks bored.

He sees me walking towards him and he gets back into business mode, stiff and silent. I walk over to the passenger side door and he opens it up for me. Then we are off.

The ride was uneventful and I am back at the house in only a short amount of time. Mother waits for me at the door, asking the usual parent school questions as I enter the house. "How was school?" "What did you do?", those questions have not gone away. And neither have the typical teenager reply "Fine". I leave her in the entryway and head to my room.

I feel like Mother would leave me alone, but before I know it there is a knock on my door and she enters. In her hands, another white gift bag which she sets on my vanity. "The new Commanders were inducted today. They are the new faces of our government." She tells me. Great. We have to talk about this again. I really don't want to deal with this right now. I only nod.

"Which means that they are going to take part in the next Prayvaganza." She continues. I nod again. I want to tell her, beg her, to not talk about this. I am done with these men and her inviting them here and bringing them up non stop is making me sick. My head is starting to hurt again, shit. Jack.

"Speaking of the Prayvaganza," Mother drags on. What is she talking about? I must have looked confused because she grabs the white bag and lifts up another white dress, though this one isn't like the sun dress. It is too straight, long sleeved, with a small cape. An egg, that's what the cape reminds me of. Fertile. I know what this dress is, a wedding dress.

My face grew hot, This can't be happening. It's happening all to soon, all to fast, I'm not ready. There are tears in Mother's eyes and there are tears in mine as well. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to set this whole pace on fire.

"Your getting married tomorrow." She smiles through her tears.

Fuck.

 **What did you think? I know that it's probably not the best chapter ever. Time seems to skip a lot in this chapter and it was hard for me to find the words and figure out what to write in this part in this story. The rest I believe I have figured out and I cant wait to have you guys read what is coming up. Can't wait. Will post soon. Once again, if you have any suggestions on how to fix anything or comment what you think will happen. I love hearing what you have to say. Keep reading!**

 **-Kyra**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I can't sleep, how can I? I just stare up at the ceiling, underneath all of the covers for protection. I feel hot, though I don't want to leave my cocoon of safety. My mind is spinning yet still at the same time. Have I gone mad?

There are mountains far off in the distance. Dad takes his big camera out to snap a few photos. Mom does the same with her phone, those will be posted later on Facebook. Heidi and I are looking at the mountains as well, the alps. It is all so beautiful, nothing like I've seen in Ohio. I remember going on a mountain when I was in Switzerland with my school. I got to touch a cloud. I wonder if we can do that again here.

There are other people parked to the side of the road like us. Most are American, though there are a few Asians and Indian people here as well, all looking out at the exact same view.

Once we finish taking our pictures, we start to hit the road. Dad is driving, as usual. While we drive I look out the window, something I usually do while we take long car rides. The hotel is pretty far away, so we are stuck driving through a scenic path. Heidi and I play a few games together while German music plays in the background. I enjoy the music, though it is not as good as the French music I listen too. Heidi enjoys the music as well, she sings along to a few songs that she knows, in German of course. I love hearing Heidi speak German, she is so good at it. Frau Engberg would be so proud.

Heidi, my sister, god I miss her. She should be 21 by now, it was her birthday last week. Happy belated birthday Heidi, you are now old enough to drink. Is she still alive? I guess it's better to believe that she is dead, she is safer that way. What if she got out. Maybe she is in Canada. It's hard to know.

We watch the news, thanking God that it's in English and not German. Images flash on the inside of the Capitol, security camera footage of the attack. They are all senators, the representatives, the speaker of the house, everyone is dead. The reporter is going on and on about the attack, saying that it was terrorists who did it, probably ISIS but we don't know for sure. Then his face is horrified as he listens in to his earpiece. The world goes silent as we wait for him to give us the news.

"I've just been notified that an explosive has been detonated in the White House," He tells his audience with horror on his face. My sister starts to cry and I join in with her. America is no longer safe, we can not go back. If this never had happened we would be leaving in a few days, but now with what's happening, I don't know what we will do. "Just breathe and pray," Mom says to calm us down, though she is on the verge of tears as well. Dad is holding her hand, I have never seen him more scared in his entire life. We are all scared.

The embassy is packed the next day, everyone begging to stay. We stand in line for over three hours. Luckily there is WiFi so I check social media. SnapChat is blowing up, some of my friends are saying that they are moving to Canada. A lot of people are trying to get out of America. Facebook is saying the same thing, people exploding about this new government suspending the constitution. Shit.

More and more people are talking about marches that are happening. Those are apparently being stopped at gun point, dozens of people dead. The news is blowing up as well. It seams like the end of the world is going on, more like the end of America.

My mind goes directly to my friends, Katie cat, Maddy, Grace and Claire. Are they alright? I hope they are safe. Katie isn't one for joining in on protests, she is too scared to join in on those. But still my mind goes to the darkest thoughts.

Eventually, after four hours of waiting, our number gets called. Mom and dad do most of the talking, saying that we need to stay here longer, until things die down a bit. The attendant doesn't budge, saying that we have to go when our vacation was scheduled to end.

After a long argument we eventually come to an agreement. Mom and dad can stay and get a job, but Heidi and I have to go back for school. l When we finish this school year, we can come back to Germany and stay with our parents. I don't understand why I can't finish high school here, but we have to submit or else we are all going home.

Our goodbyes at the airport was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Leaving my family, my parents, my sister. Saying goodbye to mom was probably the hardest. She is my mom! Knowing that I may never see her again kills me. We are all crying, I cling on to mom till my planes flight attendant comes to get us. We are traveling alone and my mom thought it would be good to have someone help us on our trip back, even though Heidi is an adult and can navigate her way around an airport.

The flight attendant looks sad as well, she can't possibly know what it's like to say goodbye to people you've known your whole life. People who you may never see again. It can kill a person. Stay, I Pray You from the musical Anastasia was playing in my head. How can I desert them? How can I say goodbye? Flight attendant hold the horses. Stay, I pray you. Let me have a moment, let me say goodbye.

Heidi and I got to sit together on the plane back to America. This plane felt like a death sentence. We are flying into the unknown. What once was a place that I loved and felt proud about is now a place that I never want to return to, something that terrifies me. I don't feel safe anymore. I listened to music on the plane. Book of Mormon, Anna Graceman, Anastasia, my favorite soundtracks to distract my mind to going to the darkest of places. A few movies played and I got to watch some which was nice. I don't remember the last movie I saw on that plane ride. Was it Coco? Or was it Incredibles 2? Then we landed.

The American airport was packed with people all wanting to leave for safer land. We over heard arguments over credit cards not working and that they can't separate their family. It all looked like a war zone with people running back and forth, crying, pushing and cutting through lines to get into security. Outside was just as worse. So many cars parked along the side, honking their horns and yelling like crazy. We are all going mad.

It wasn't hard to find the car, moms big white van. Heidi has her license, so we could easily get home and not have to hire an Uber. Traffic wasn't a problem for us, no one wanted to get back into America, it was getting out that was the problem. Cars honking and lining up the other side of the street, all wanting to enter the Airport. It reminded me of the movie Independence Day with everyone trying to leave for safer states.

Dusty and Tiger were excited to see us again. Tiger was all lovey dovey with us, meowing to giver her food. Dusty shunned us as usual but was quick to realize that she missed us. While we unpacked our suitcases, they waited by the mudroom door for mom and dad to come home. How do you tell a cat that their owners won't be coming home.

That night Tiger couldn't stop meowing for mom. Tiger and her have been BFFF (Best Feline Friends Forever) ever since we got them, and Tiger not being by mom's side makes her go crazy. I understand her pain, i'm feeling that right now.

The cats are dead now, I know it. When I was taken, they tried to help me. Pawed at the soldiers with their declawed paw, meowing in anger but also pleading them to stop. But my captors kicked them away. There were gunshots after I was put into the black van. They had to have shot them, it's more merciful that way instead of leaving them there to die of starvation.

I went back to work in the few weeks that I had left till school started, but on my first day back our boss gave us some terrible news. He said that he had to let us go. Obviously we were all shocked. My work place's employees is roughly 65% female, so letting all of those people go is going to cost them a lot. Flora, one of our leads, and my favorite person in the whole work place, was pissed. She is one to say what is on her mind and doesn't mind a fight, even with a guest. I enjoyed my work, being around people and seeing animals often was pretty cool. I never did anything wrong to be let go, and neither did any of these people. I told Heidi what had happened at work and she told me that she received an email from her boss at her internship that she was let off too. We were all in distraught that we forgot to eat dinner.

Heidi left for Kentucky A week after the work incident. She had to get back to college. Saying goodbye to her was harder than saying goodbye to my parents. She is my sister, my best friend, how can she leave me here alone? This was the last time I ever saw her. She gave me half of the money mom and dad gave us at the airport. The total was a little more than 200 dollars for each of us, not enough to live but good for starters. Though I don't know how I will get more since I don't have a job and all of my credit card and debit card money is gone.

I watched Heidi leave the house, she was crying and so was I. We knew that this was probably our last time to see each other, even though she said that she would visit every weekend if she could. We didn't know what would be thrown at us. All we could do was wish that we would see each other again. Her car drove off into the horizon.

The wedding dress hangs on the closet door across from me. It stares with evil eyes, telling me that my time is up. It's too excitable. I didn't want this gift, but what choice do I have. Do this or be considered an Unwoman. In the darkness I can hear the dress breathe. Lightly, through its light fabric, like a baby. I feel like I am being watched. This dress is dangerous, my life is dangerous. One false move and I can be on the Wall or sent to the colonies.

I dream of another place, one safer than here. In these dreams, shadows call. I can see a light at the end of a hall. But my dreams fade away and I am stuck here, in my bed, in a world that I want to burn. These dreams, memories, seem to fade faster and fast each day. I am losing sight of what I once knew, what I once loved.

I think of the music I used to listen to. I want to sing them. God, I miss singing Anna Graceman, Book of Mormon, Anastasia, Carrie, musicals, Christian music, I try to recall their lyrics. It has been so long that some of the verses slip away from my mind. How dare they fly away from my mind, no, how dare I forget them.

One song does come in full to my memory. An Anna Graceman song, _World on Fire_. I sing it's lyrics softly, trying not to wake up the Martha's who sleep close by. I thought this song was a metaphor for how the government won't help us when the world goes on fire. Not literal fire though, a fire of news and events that cause havoc in the world. But now I believe that to be a fact. A verse in the songs says, and I hope this is right:

Cause I've been praying that you're gonna save me

But your gonna leave when I say

Your gonna leave when I say

It reminds me how the government will just leave us to save themselves, not to save their citizens, when things get tough. The government shut down many times when there was still an America. Heidi went to DC for her 8th grade trip when the government was closed. There isn't much to do in DC when the government is shut down.

I enjoyed that song, I still do. It has a rock vibe to it that makes it fun to sing in the shower and rock out to walking down the street. I wonder if she is alive. She can't be making music anymore due to the countless laws that make women lesser than men. Is she a Wife somewhere. I know that she lived in Nashville, she could be an Econowife there. I want to take a trip there to find out if she is alive. She could be dead though, like the many people I care about.

I must have fallen asleep because the next time I check the clock, the sun is starting to rise and my alarm screams six am. Sleep, I want more sleep. My last night as a free woman gave me no sleep. I want to sleep in. Hopefully Mother doesn't care for a few more minutes of extra sleep. I pull the covers over my head, blocking the small rays of sunshine piercing through the translucent drapes. Five more minutes mom!

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry it took awhile to update, work has me pretty busy lately. This was a very emotional chapter for me to write and I did cry one or two times writing it. Chapter 5 is in the works though and will be put out later. Thank you all for your comments, I love reading them. Please feel free to give suggestions on how to fix things and or what you hope will happen. Have a great week guys and I'll post soon. Keep reading! -Kyra**


	5. Chapter 5

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 5

Vera dressed me up while Mother watched me from a chair near my vanity. Mother yelling at Vera to "fix my hair", "the dress is on wrong", "that is not how the hair piece goes on". Finding anything thing to have her fix. I must look like the perfect bride.

This is not how I imagined my wedding day to be. I wanted to have a big wedding outside in a pretty garden, with my family and close friends. My own dad walking me down the aisle with Canon in D playing behind me. To have the stress of making all of the center pieces and finding a wedding dress. To dance with the man I love, one that I've known forever. But no, I will have none of that.

Once I look perfect, according to Mother, Mother sends Vera out of the room for her to have some final daughter time. The door closes softly before I am motioned to sit next to Mother. "You are no longer a daughter," She informs me. Yeah, like I don't already know that. "You are now a Wife. You have duties to uphold. Like maintaining the house, cooking, cleaning, but most of all bearing children. That is your highest responsibility." I nod, but deep down inside I am rolling my eyes. We have been taught this stuff at the School, I don't need a refresher.

"I know, Mother. May God give me the strength to be a good wife." She likes that response. We went over things that will happen on my first night as a wife, how I must do what my husband tells me. And if he wants sex, I must do it with the blanket. All useless information that I already know, but makes me terrified all the same.

I never wanted to have sex or give birth, I wanted to adopt or have a surrogate mother. This has been my plan since I was five, having someone else go through the pain of giving birth so I don't have to. That thought never changed throughout my life. High school made me even more sure that I didn't want sex. Two words, health class. They say all of these things that can happen when you have sex like, baby, AIDS, STD's, etc. Then they say that "We want you to have sex when you ready and it's a beautiful thing. But this and this and this can happen, oh and this can happen as well." Yeah right they want us to have sex.

I start to feel sick with Mother talking about the first night with my significant other. Surprisingly she takes notice to my uncomfortability to the subject and she stops. "I'm just telling you what to expect, Kyra. You are going to be a wife, this is what you will live with. It all will get easier." Easier? How can this get any easier?

Bible verses were said, memorized. Only the men have bibles, kept in a locked box on the mantle. A key which only the man of the household has, something we cannot have. Verses like 1 Corinthians 11:9- "for indeed man was not created for the woman's sake, but woman for the man's sake" and Colossians 3:18- "Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting to the Lord." The bible is messed up.

Things used to not be like this, we used to be able to vote, have a job, own money. Great women fought for our rights. Though they are long dead, there memory is not even a memory to this nation. I used to learn about them, do many projects over Susan B. Anthony and her role in women's suffrage. But now they are forgotten. I wonder what they are thinking, up in heaven. Probably that they are glad not to be alive or else they would have to live here. Would they rise up like they did in the early 1900's? They would die if they do. There is no way to win.

Our Guardian drives the black car out of the garage and up to the front of the house, a signal to leave. More like a signal for ending my singularity. Mother doesn't take notice of the car, just holds onto me in a hug. She doesn't want to let me go, i'm her only daughter and I don't blame her. She will get her own Handmaid soon enough though, with a child married off, who says you can't have another? God especially doesn't say no, so why not keep having more?

A honk, that's all it takes for her to let go of me. She wipes away tears of sadness and joy from her tear stained eyes. She says something to me but I don't here her, because I am crying too. Tears sting my eyelids as I try to hold back tears. I can barely see Mother leave the door.  
I must have asked to have a few minutes to myself because she doesn't come to get me until five minutes later. In that time, I cry. I let out all of the emotion that I have been holding back for so long. I cry for my parents, missing them so much. I cry for my sister, dead or alive. I cry for my cats, my friends, Music, reading, writing. But most of all I cry for myself, something I've haven't in a long time. I let myself stay in America when I should have bought a plane ticket, with the 200 something dollars Heidi gave me, to Canada or Germany. I should have left. But I can't change the past, though I can change the future. I can escape, it's not common for a Daughter to escape her home. Or there are those other escapes, the ones that are out of their control. No. I can't do that, not when my family could still be alive out there. I can't have those thoughts.

I compose myself before Mother gets back. Tears are gone from my eyes, though they still look puffy. I wish I had foundation to cover them up. Part of me thinks I look gross, well I always look gross after I cry, but I try to look past that.

When Mother comes back to my room to tell me it's time to go, I look decent. Though I still have those puffy eyes, she reassured me that it will be gone by the time I walk down the aisle. I look back at my room for one final time before I go.

The drive felt like forever. There was traffic with everyone trying to get to the Prayvaganza all at once, to see the new Commanders get married, the Daughters get married, me get married. I shudder at the thought.

I can feel myself counting down the minutes till I am no longer me, how can I be when I have constant supervision from my husband. Yes he will be at work, and yes I will be alone most of the day, but there will be Martha's and a Handmaid if I get married off to a Commander. Wives will visit me, welcoming me into their clan. Gifts upon gifts will fill my room. I will feel claustrophobic.

Then I see it, the Hower House, standing nice and tall with its old bricks. It was a staple for this university. That's not where the Ceremony takes place, that's usually in the athletic department, a gym. We are almost there.

It doesn't take long for us to get to the parking lot of the athletic field house, though we don't park where we usually do for these events. Instead we park in the back, towards the loading deck, the backstage entrance. I am helped out of the car by the Guardian, this time I do need his help. Before Mother can usher me towards where twelve other Wives and their Daughters hurry inside, I hug the Guardian. He has done more than he would have liked to me. I respect him.

"I'm sorry," I say after I let go, he only smiles. I have never seen him smile before, I never given him a reason to smile. He has a soft smile, one that is friendly and warm. It's a nice smile. "What is your name?" the words roll off my tongue before I have a chance to think of them. "Sorry, its just I never knew your name."

"Liam," He clarifies. Liam. "Thank you, Liam." Liam gives me another one of his friendly smiles, and just as that smile came on his face, it was gone when he saw another Guardian coming in our direction to escort me and Mother inside. Liam can't watch this Prayvaganza, only members of the family can.

I watch him get into the car behind me, not realizing how much I actually liked him when we were in each others presence. He was nice to me, in a strange way. He didn't show that he liked me, but in this moment as I watch him hesitate to get into his car, I realize that he did care for me.

The backstage, I guess you can call that, was not as I imagined. The mothers and other brides were directed to what once was a lady's locker room. The room was big, countless of lockers were still drilled into the wall. None of them were open, none of them with things inside, all empty.

I was never into sports, only did marching band, if you even count that as a sport. So I never had a locker room. We changed into our uniforms on the bus or in a high schools music room. The uniform was simple: a black overall (what we called bibs), black socks and shoes, a green and white "jacket" with an upside down Celtic not in the middle, black gloves, and our black and gold shako and plume. It never took long for us to get changed, and on long bus ride to a game or competition, we just wore our bibs. Of course we layered up with other clothing underneath, just to clarify. Don't want you to get any ideas. But we never had a locker room.

Mother and I sat on one of the benches along with the other mothers and brides. The brides looked nervous, scared for what's to come. Though there is one person who is excited about this marriage as she constantly chatters to the bride's near her and their mothers. Magpie, Audrey.

I'm shocked to see Audrey here, and as I look around I notice a few other girls from my class. Stork Fiona, Bluebird Mabel, and Hummingbird Helen. I am grateful to see Helen. She was the only girl in my class I considered a friend. My walking partner, even Daughters have walking partners. Like the Handmaid's we learned how to talk without speaking out loud. Her father is one of the highest Commanders in the state, so she hears a lot about what is going on. Mostly foreign affairs, but some small pieces of hope, Mayday. If she gets married to a high Commander, there is no limit to what I can find out.

She sees me and I can see a rush of relief fall off her shoulders. We lock eyes for only a moment, a greeting without saying a word. Staring too long can raise suspicion, we don't need any gossip going around. I scratch my neck with two fingers, a sign she knows well. She understands and does the signal back.

In the School, it was dangerous to tell me the details of what is going on. On our walks, she manipulates her words to make it seem like we are grateful or angry on whatever the subject is, each one a secret message for me to figure out till we meet in the bathroom. Our meetings take place in between walk and free time. It is nice because usually people don't have to pee at that time, which is unusual. No Aunt did bathroom duty, they trusted us enough to let us have the bathroom to ourselves. Which was nice, because it mean't time to talk.

Five minutes, that's all we got. An Angel stands outside the bathroom, makes since. They don't want us to drown ourselves in toilet water, it has happened before. A bride couldn't handle being married to a complete stranger, let alone in this place, so she stuck her head in the toilet and drowned. Suicide. There was one less bride that day, one less marriage.

I ask to go to the restroom, and I notice Helen do the same. We stagger our entrance, to make it seem like we didn't plan this. So as she walks in, I head over to Audrey just to say hello. But of course I have to listen to her go on and on about how happy and excited she is to be a wife, a mother, and I have to shut her up quickly before I get too deep into conversation.

The bathroom inside is large, all stalls open but the second to last stall, she knows I like the stalls on the ends. I go in the large handicapped stall and lock the door. There is no hole in the wood like in the School. But we make due and hold each others hand while we sit on the toilet.

"Hi," She says softly. "Hi," I reply. "I'm so glad to see you here," She whispers to the wood, though I hear her words clear as day. "I'm glad to see you to."

"So, we're getting married," She mentions, like I already don't know. I smile, "Yeah. You look hot in that dress." a small slap on my hand. "I do not!" Helen gasps but shortly releases a small laugh. "You look like a snowman," payback. "You know it," I laugh.

We sit in silence for awhile, just holding on tightly to each others hand, none of us wanting to let go. "I'm scared," Helen speaks out from the quiet. I'm shocked. She always seems so brave, taking a risk like talking to each other in a bathroom is more dangerous than this wedding. But nevertheless I am scared to. "Me too."

"I don't want to do this." At that very moment I hear a girl who seemed so brave and true, become fragile and frightened. She is only fifteen, I don't blame her for being scared. She is way younger than me, by at least three years. Countless of eighteen year olds got married in the time before, why should I complain? Her life is being thrown away, all of her potential gone. She will be forced into a hard life that she does not deserve. "I know," is my only reply. How do I comfort her?

"Are you done in there," A voice calls out, the Angel. She has to go. I squeeze her hand softly before she leaves her stall. I hear the sound of running water and her small white heels clacker on the pale tile. A few seconds pass before I get out of my stall and do the same, trying not to cause any suspicion.

Waiting. That's all we do. That's all women ever do. Wait. We wait for our ride. We wait for our marriage. We wait for our husband to get home. We wait for a baby to come. We constantly wait. It's all so boring. I was never a patient person, did not stand in line for that up in heaven as my mom likes to say. I wish it was my dad walking me down the aisle and not this bitch of a mother. It's not the same.

After a long morning of waiting, the prayvaganza begins. Our group is saved for last. There are two groups for this prayvaganza, my group and another. We are in separate rooms so not to confuse the Angels who stand guard. I don't know who is getting married in group 1, we aren't allowed to see them. They will be Econowives any way, where as we are going to be Wives of the new Commanders, we should not mingle with the lesser.

I hear the soft sound of heels hitting the floor as group one exits their locker room and makes their way towards the stage. A sense of fear washes over me, I am next. I always had stage fright, but not as bad as most. I would be nervous off stage but once my face hits the lights, my fear is gone. But not this time, not when the scene is totally different. I am not playing a teenage girl who is getting married. I am the teenage girl getting married. I want to throw up.

We don't have long. These things are usually short and uneventful. I've only seen a few Prayvaganzas in my time as a daughter, seeing countless of young girls become Econowives. It is not common for Commanders to be issued a Wife since they already had one in the time before, unless their Wife died or their are new Commanders, in this case it's the latter.

Soft clapping is heard off in the distance, the brides must be walking on stage now. It is almost time. My mind is starting to spin of old memories or dreams. I wanted to be an actress when I was younger. To play a character on the stage or on screen was what I wanted most. But as I grew up, I learned how competitive that field was. So I decided to go into teaching High school theatre and become the better PScott (my high school drama teacher). When sophomore year came, I learned about costume design. From then on I was a lover of costume design. Junior year Thespian Conference I participated in an Individual Event for costume design. I had to design five costumes from a show production, create an artifact binder, and present it to a group of judges. When I learned that I got a double superior, the highest score you can get on an IE, I was overwhelmed with joy. From then on I knew that I wanted to do costume design for my life. But that is just as competitive as acting, I guess I like the competitive stuff.

But those dreams are gone now. I can't go to the college I wanted to go to, can't major in the profession I want, can't even go to school because now I have to be a wife to a complete stranger. Become a person that I am not.

Did God want this? Is this what he had in mind for America? Or is God screaming down at us in anger but doing nothing about it. There was a time where me and God's relationship was on edge. The bible was confusing, and I wasn't sure if he was there. It's hard to wrap your mind around someone so big and powerful actually existing. I didn't think God ever talked to me or even wanted to. I went to church and didn't pay attention to what our pastor was saying. I just drew on the notes in our bulletin. Part of me only went because I got to sing in the beginning. I love to sing, so any time I get a chance to I go.

But now, in this world, my relationship with him has gotten worse. Is this how the Jews felt in the concentration camps? that their God left them. I feel like this is pay back to me. Him telling me that I was wrong, that he was always there. Is he making this world a living hell to teach me and many others that he exists? No, God is more merciful than that. He wouldn't do this to humanity. Would he?

The door opens and all of our heads turn to see who it is. The clapping is louder now, peering through the door to remind us of what's to come. An Angel appears at the door, his gun hanging around his side. The Angels talk with each other for awhile, probably going over the drill, until the Angel in our room tells us to get up and form two straight lines. We do as we are told, forming two lines that face the door way. I am somehow stuck in the middle of our six person line. I remind myself that where we stand in line controls our fate.

Our two lines of six brides and their mothers walk out of the locker room in a single file line. The hallway is long, with walls that would have been filled with posters on health and sports as well as fliers for fundraisers. This used to be a hall of students and athletes. Now it is a hall of death and creation. Death of your past and creation of your future. I hope where I stand in line gives me a good husband and not some bastard like many Wives have. God, if you're out there, please help us.

We reach the end of the hallway. In front of us is a big stage, one built with metal poles and platforms, easy to tear down and build again. Big curtains fall down from the top to shield ourselves from the crowd and line of husbands behind it. On either side are steps, one for my row and one for the other. I can hear Commander Anderson giving his speech, informing the audience of women that they will witness not only one marriage but two. We don't see the inducted Commanders walk on stage, but we do see two young boys, no older than thirteen, walk up the steps holding small boxes that contain the rings.

The Angels tell us to put down our veils. Each girl turns to their mother and lets their veil fall. I look at Mother as she lifts her hands up to pull down the veil in front of my face. Once the thick veil is over my face, I can't see anything. The veils are there to prevent our betrothed from seeing us, and form us to see them. We can only look after we are married. Man I hope he isn't ugly.

Mother holds tightly onto my arm, she is my eyes. I can hear Commander Anderson talk about how God gave Adam a woman of his own so that he may not be lonely and I know that it is our time to go on the stage. Mother becomes my guide dog as she leads me up the stairs. Bright lights blind me even through the veil and the sound of the audience clapping reminds me of a curtain call.

We walk in our straight rows, mothers holding on to their children for one last time. This is an emotional experience for everyone. Anderson continues talking about Adam and Eve. "In sorrow, thou shalt bring forth children." the Commander recites as Mother stops me in my tracks and helps me turn around to face my fate. One last squeeze on my hand and my guide dog is gone to sit down with the other mothers in their designated seats.

My heart is pumping loudly as Commander Anderson continues his speal. "And thy desires should be on to thy husband and he shall rule over me. Do you accept this sacred duty?" He asks onto the males. My heart is pumping loudly that I barely hear the men reply.

"With the token of this vow, each of you should give and receive a ring." I lift up both of my hands, one to hold the box and the other for the ring. The weight of the box was heavier than expected. I can feel the weight of his hand grab one of the rings to place on my hand. His hands are soft as he places the ring on my left hand with a gentle touch. I do the same to his. The box is lifted off of my hands and I hear it snap closed.

"Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother and shall cling on to his wife. They shall be one flesh. I now pronounce you man and wife." Anderson finishes. I can hear the other Commanders unveil their wives, but mine hesitates. My mind goes straight to Helen, what is her husband like? Before my mind can continue that thought, the veil starts to fly and I am met with bright lights. I don't want to look at him, not yet. I keep my head down and eyes lowered, though I know I will have to look at him soon.

Mother, I turn to look at mother. Her eyes are full of tears and I know that this is sad for her. I only lived with her for less than a year and this republic took her only child away. There can only be happiness and anger in her tears. A small wave and smile, that's all she gives me. Her goodbye.

When I turn back to my husband I am greeted with a familiar face. The shock of seeing him almost takes the breath out of me. I feel faint, I want to fall. But he holds onto my hand to not let me fall. Commander Anderson continues his speech. "God bless. God said unto them be fruitful and multiply. Replenish the Earth. May the Lord order your steps now and all days alike. I give you the happy couples." The ceremony is complete. The clapping comes back to life as mothers and wife are tearing up at this union.

We walk down the stage together, me and my husband. I am shocked that it's him, but also grateful that it's not a complete stranger. Is this God's way of love? Did he make this happen? Of course he did. He gave me someone who I knew beforehand, who I could trust. The face of my husband, an old friend. Jack.


	6. Chapter 6

p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: left;"strongspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Enjoy!/span/strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-align: center;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Chapter 6/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I don't like talking about this part of my life. I wish I could talk about the good stuff, like my past. But this story needs to be told for all of the women struggling here and for those outside. This story is hard, dark even, but that is what this place is, hard and dark. I wouldn't be telling the truth If I didn't talk about the bad stuff. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Not long ago there was a Salvaging, a man died. Accused of raping a daughter, younger than me. He must have been their Guardian and fell into lust, a sin. He was stoned that day. The daughter should have been but she did cry for help and repented, therefore she is saved. She was promoted to being a Handmaid that day, for her crime. Who knows where she is now. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I never liked going to these events, seeing men and women killed. There used to be movies, TV shows that showed death of characters. Fake blood was splattered onto the ground. This is not fake blood. I always looked away, looked at Mother or the Handmaids on the ground with their soft knee pillows. The women around me cheered, the Handmaids remained silent. Even in a place that is supposed to be all perfect, blood is spilled leaving stains forever./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"There were only a few that I attended. Not many people are rebelling these days. I believe some have given up and just accepted this, I on the other hand, have not given up. My family is still out there, dead or alive, I have to find them. I need to see my mom./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"After the wedding nothing much happened. We drove back to the house and sat in the grand living room and talked. Jack and my Father know each other fairly well and it didn't take long for them to cook up a conversation. Father seemed proud to have him as his son in law, as well did Mother. Almost as if they wanted this union to happen. I can imagine some Commanders putting suggestions in to the Prayvaganza council about hooking their daughter up with a certain Angel or Guardian. Father probably did that for me. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The Martha's came in and out, serving us drinks for this special occasion. Drinking champagne for the first time was weird, apparently wives can drink. But for the most of the evening it was just the married couples. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"When night fell I grew scared. I knew what was going to happen and that made me scared. Since we have not been given a home yet, we must stay with my family, since the house is big enough for all of us. The thought of having sex in my bed makes me sick and I try not to think about it, but nevertheless my mind goes to the dark thoughts./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The sheet was out on the bed. Two doves hover over a circular hole in the sheet. That is where his dick will go. As I go to take off my nightgown I feel his hand go on my shoulder. In this room we are isolated from those around us. We are safe. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You don't have to do that." He tells me in a hushed whisper. Though we are far from my parents, the fear of them hearing us still lingers near. The sheet flies off the bed in one swift motion and the bed covers beneath are revealed. Mother will question in the morning, but that is something I will deal with later. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Sleep was on and off for the both of us, not used to sleeping in a bed with someone else. Sleeping as far away from each other as we could, without falling off the bed, was harder than it seamed. But in the middle of the night we would find ourselves curled up together, with his hand across my waist. It felt wrong, but also right./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I never had a thing for him in high school. He was a guy I didn't care for. Kind annoying and a typical popular high school guy. No one that I needed to get attached to and seem like I had to be his friend. But here in his arm around me, something inside of me just bubbles and I'm brought back to the way things were./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Iago is a warlock!"/spanspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;" Xandy screams as we are talking about characters in Shakespeare's Othello./spanspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;" "No he is not,"/spanspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;" I fire back, /spanspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Just because he is a genius and his plan to ruin Othello worked does no make him a warlock"/spanspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;". Others would yell back at me. Of course all of the guys were in on Xandy's idea of him being a warlock. I could tell that Miss Herchek and Miss Kline are annoyed with them, bringing up that Iago was a warlock in every single time we bring him up. It seems like I am the only one who respects Shakespeare in this class. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"But nevertheless we continue on with reading Othello. And Lily is stuck reading another one of Iago's long monologues where he explains his plan to the audience. Each of us has parts, Lily is Iago, I am Desdemona, Timmy is Othello, Xandy is Montano, Jack is Roderigo, and so on. Act 2, Scene 1, that is where we are. I've already highlighted some parts from when I read on. My notes are in green, what I've done in class in blue. I enjoy color coating, it make my book nice and organized. Once the timed writing comes, my book will be ready with colored sticky notes for each topic./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Memories, they come and go. It was only last year that I read this book and now I can barely remember who was who and what it was about. I did like that play, I wanted to be in it. Play Desdemona or Emilia and have a dying scene, that could be fun. Most of all I wanted to be a female Iago. His wickedness made me want to play him so badly. I wish my school did that play./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I've been married for two weeks now, changing from white to blue. My closet bursting with different shades of blue. Some of Mothers old gowns are in there, must not fit her anymore or she find them too bland. I still stay with Mother, we have not been assigned a new house yet. Mother says that we will go looking at houses soon, just the two of us. It is a Wife's duty to deal with anything house related. Mother, she found this house, made it a perfect home for a perfect Gileadian family. All of the garden statues,paintings, flowers, the piano, all were placed at her command. I find this funny, the head of the household are men, then how come the woman do all of the work? /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"For the past two weeks I've been wearing blue, surrounded by blue, i'm surprised that the food I eat isn't blue. There are gifts, they stand like a mountain in a corner of my room, his room, our room. Blue, white, silver, gold wrapping paper cover the treasures hidden inside. They stand helplessly in the corner, I don't dare to open them. Something about leaving them un open brings me pleasure. Mother says that I should open them, I only reply back with the usual argument. "I'm waiting to open them with my husband, making this a family thing." That shuts her up quick. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Wives come to visit more than I like, welcoming me into their circle. It's weird. I'm used to being left out of the circles, now I'm being brought into one. The day after the Prayvaganza, all of mothers closest friends came to throw me a party. There was food, gifts (the same ones in my room), champaign, all of the things to make a perfect party. It was a nice party, I have to admit that, but the Wives are vicious. When one wife leaves to use the restroom, they stop the conversation on the topic we were on and just talk about her. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Oh she is so ungrateful for her handmaid.","Oh she is so annoying.","I can't deal with her going on and on about her pregnant handmaid." etc. They are all like me, acting like they like a person even though deep down they despise them. I've done that trick all of my life =, though I've never talked badly about them once they leave the room. That is all them. It's weird seeing others act./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alone, Im usually alone. Mother calls it waiting, something that wives must grow accustomed to. I hate this, waiting. I sit around and do nothing all day. I've been married for awhile so I don't have to deal with the constant visits every day so that is a plus. Even though I despised them, the visits, it was nice to talk to someone. Though I couldn't say all the things I wanted to, it's nice to talk to people, included in a group./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Drama Club. I was never really let into the clique till senior year, because I was a senior. It sucked at times. I wanted to be liked and it took me a long time to see that if they didn't want me in their group, they were not worth my time or friendship. I wish I've learned that earlier that I did. I wasted so much time trying to join in the circle, say words differently, not act like myself. I wasted a lot of time and energy on them that I should have saved for later. But we can't change the past, no matter how much we want to./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I spend my time, alone, thinking. Cross stitching. I think about my past. The people I love. Helen. I wonder how she is doing, Helen. She probably married an older man. When the inductees were at my house, There were a few older men. Did she have her first time? Is she pregnant? Where is she./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;" I want to ask mother where she is. Mother is that kind of person who knows those things, where people are. Mother is… social. Loves to find all of the information she can put her hands on. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"My bed is warm, comfortable. The sun is peeking through the sheer curtains. The bed is empty, as always. He has gone off to who knows where. A wife before all this would be worried that he is off with some other lady, that is unheard of now. Though there were rumors that an Econowife and a Guardian, who were not wed, ran away together in the New Gilead District. They died the following day, not daring to repent their sin. Drowning I heard, though we don't know if its true. We can never know what is true or lies./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I don't want to leave my bed. Its comfortable and warm. I can feel the gentle tug of my duty pulling me out of bed. Chills run up my whole body once my feet touch the cold hard wood floor. Quickly I put on my blue slippers and rush into the bathroom. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"A bath lays waiting for me, the water still hot to the touch. Carol makes my bath in the mornings, her swiftful hands and feet make it easy for her to walk in without making a sound. Sometimes I believe that she has a magical power of speed and silence. It can be easy for her to sneak up on an important conversation and listen in. I tuck that thought into my pocket, saving it for later, before i get into the bath. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The waters is warm yet cool to the touch of my skin. I would prefer warmer water, but this will have to do. You can not be too picky in this place, you must use what you get and nothing more. A fresh new blue dress hangs on the wall with a dark oak wood hanger. Plastic hangers are no longer around. Something this place is trying to solve, the environment. According to Helen we are reducing our CO2 emissions greatly. More than we ever could have thought possible. At least one good thing came out of this situation./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"I let my mind drift off into the few memories I have left. The memory of leaving my parents sticks out in my mind like a sore thumb. I can imagine them looking for me, probably without any luck. Heidi could be dead for all I know. My cats, the sound of the gun shot still lingers in my ears. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Katie Cat comes to my mind next, my best friend. Memories of us are few, I've lost so much in this past year. We learned the chords to Dust. A song we both love by our favorite artist, Anna Graceman. It took us three days to figure it out, and once we did, we celebrated with hugs and playing the song again with different sounds. Trumpet (made the song have a scary beginning and a sorrowful ending but hilarious all the same), pipe organ, banjo, drums, etc. Laughter filled her basement and could be heard throughout the house./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"School comes next. Odd I know, but I enjoyed high school. Junior year was probably the best. Even though my math class sucked, my environmental science class did not. Throughout the second semester, my class worked on their legacy projects. A project that allows students to leave behind a legacy in their school. Last years class wanted water bottle fillers so they sold water bottles to raise money for the fillers. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Me and my partner (my class had not academically strong people in it so they did another project)strived to have our school be more food sustainable. We found a company called Grind2Energy that created a unit that grinded up all sorts of food (condiments, whole sandwiches, cookies) into a grind pulp. This pulp is sent to local farmers for fertilizer and its methane sent to an anaerobic digestive system to turn it into usable energy. Sound crazy, I know, but it's what we needed in our school. Research after research and presentation after presentation, we were finally able to pitch our idea to the head of my city's sustainability board. If all of this didn't happen, It would have been implanted into my year, a year students dream of, I never got to have./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Knocking, someone is knocking. How long have they been doing that? My water is cold, I didn't realized that. The sound of me getting out of the tub notifies the person at the door that I'm done. The knocking stops and I quickly throw on a robe. The door grows slightly ajar and I see a black suit, Jack. He is home, why is he home this early? What time is it? /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I was told that they didn't need me at work today, so I came home." He notifies me. I probably had a look of confusion and shock on my face. Nice of him to answer my question."Praise be," I reply. I feel like a robot when I say that. Its programed into me and I can't stop./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"A look of annoyance, why is he annoyed? Was it something that I did? Something I said? Maybe its work. He interupts my thoughts before I can think more on the question. "Stop this act Kyra," Shit, he knows. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What act?" I ask. I must make him believe that I am devoted to this place, become the perfect wife./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Fuck, Kyra! I know that you are faking this whole act. You are an actress." Are. I used to be. I'm not sure what to think of him. What if this is all a game? A gamer where he tries to get me to slip up and get sent to the Colonies. Or maybe it's not. Fear is bubbling inside of me, I'm afraid to speak. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"He walks closer to me, looking down at me, right in the eyes. My head is lowered, eyes down at the floor. I can feel his eyes on my, trying to figure me out. I want to speak but my mouth is dry. Words can end someone, will mine? His mouth opens to speak, and I prepare for his next blow. Words can hurt like knives, will his be swords?/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Oh my gosh! It has been so long since I have been writing. I'm in three shows right now plus school, so I don't have time to write. Sorry it has been so long and that this isn't the best chapter, kinda losing creativity. I love all of your nice comments. You are all amazing. I will try to post the next chapter when I have some time. Keep reading! /span/strong/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"strongspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"-Kyra /span/strong/p 


End file.
